NEVER;; rogue. {Not Done}

[:] m e g s ? !]

tomcat + rogue + twenty moons old

description;

A lithe, dirty, matted-furred off-white tomcat with tabby markings, amber eyes and a ragged tail. To say that Never's not your average Clan cat, well, that would actually be quite correct. First off, because he isn't a Clan cat. Secondly, because he's Never. Simple as that.

His pelt, maybe back in his kithood, might have been half-decent. Clean, as clean as a rogue could keep his pelt, that is. But who really cares how they look anyways? Never's fur was once a handsome white color- once being the word most important. Now his pelt is that strange color, where you can't really put a name to it. Yes, it's white. Yes, it's dirty. There's places where his fur is gone, probably torn out, and places where the fur is so tangled there's just no more hope for him. It's long in some places, shorter in others. Literally stained in some places, a quarter-decent in others. But that's just Never for you.

There was actually a possibility though, that Never could have been a nice looker. His head is covered in tabby markings, from his face to his ears, which somewhat make Never look regal. His tail is also like this, striped, but then again, his tail is the epitome of a rogue. Never's tail is ragged, bedraggled, and disheveled, save all the nice adjectives for a rainy day.

His body is small, But Never doesn't really like that describing word, so maybe it's compacted. His head is equal to the rest of his body, and while being lengthy and lithe, Never doesn't show his muscles, or the lack of. He's trim as trim can get, with his fur stretched over his bones. And his eyes, almond and amber, can stare at you like there's no tomorrow. And if there is a tomorrow, and from where you find yourself you can see Never, well then in his book, you just ran out of your luck. Not that you had any in the first place, getting a glimpse of Never.

personality;

Never, of course, living the rogue life, is much a rogue. All a rogue, actually, there isn't a very good speck in his body. Sure, you could try finding one, but why you would ever be that close to Never in the first place would be a good question before you begin your search.

So, from what they taught you, rogues are sad little excuses for felines, that live without a Clan, usually by themselves, or in a rogue pack, that care for no one but themselves, will fight you to the death, are usually mean, nasty, and malicious creatures that will steal, lie, and cheat their way through life. They're dishonest, mischevious, dangerous, demanding, and inferior. But enough of the lecture, sad to say, they taught you well. That's exactly how Mister Never acts. Yeah, Never is another word for rogue. They're synonyms, practically. He kind of grows on you though, so I'd watch your back. He can be sweet, and charming too, so I'd be careful.

history;

The she-cat looked through her slit green eyes. She could see him, that amber-eyed, tabby-furred tomcat, out over there, beyond the leafy coverings of the bushes she found herself in. She had him in her grasp already, she knew, but this was too fun of a game to pass up. You know? Her tail bounced in the air, white fur gleaming in the sunlight. She took a step, purposefully stepping on some dead leaves. Just for the heck of it. The noise caught the attention of the tomcat, and his head snapped up, the muscles underneath his pelt rippling as he moved. Warily, at first, until he saw the pretty white she-cat.

He’d seen her before, a lot of the time, just wandering the paths of the forest where he seemed to always wander. He knew she was playing with him, knew she had him wrapped up in that long tail of hers. But it gave the two something to chase the day away with; so he continued to play along. But he hadn’t known he would have fallen for her. Fallen for her this much, at least. He had not been expecting that blow. But she was just so beautiful, with her long white fur and her long legs and her long tail. . . . He could go on and on about her beauty. And yet, he didn’t even know her name.

Yet neither did she know his. This was part of the fun, being just friendly enough, yet not too friendly, for her. She never fell in love with any of the toms she played with. And yes, she played a lot. But that was who she was- she was expecting them to love her, but she didn’t have to return the favor, did she? All tomcats she came across were cute- Clanners, rogues, loners, maybe even a few kittypets were to her taste. And she never let any of them get away. No, no, never once. And sooner or later, when she got bored with him, or him, or him, she broke all of their hearts. That was a sure-fire thing. Not like she meant to . . . or did she?

This tom though, this one right there, with his tabby pelt and his amber colored eyes, had gotten the better of her. She looked down at her belly. Oh, had he gotten the better of her. And for that, he didn’t deserve to live. She crouched low - as low as her belly would allow- and parted her jaws. Oh, this one. He was nice to look at. Fun to play with. But that was all- he could never be a father. Not to her kits, not to any. I mean come on- he was weak. She crawled closer. Close enough to practically be on him before he noticed her. She pounced, stuck her landing, square on top of him, and before he could flip over to knock her off of her paws, his head hit the dirt, going limp and getting colder by the second. She snickered as she walked away. Now all she had to take care of were these kits that were soon to come.

She was in no state to be a mother- alone, starving, and desperate. They came on a cool, leafbare evening. All odds were against them. But three little kits were birthed to that rogue she-cat that night, their pitful meows loud enough, it seemed, to be heard all over the forest. This was bad for the she-cat; she didn't want anyone to find her with kits, or to even find them alone. She wished they didn't exist. She should have killed their father before he had the chance to stake a claim in the world before he was to die. But she didn't. Maybe that's why they disgusted her so. They lived on the spirit of him. She was to be rid of him, she hated him. How any one tom had gotten to her like that! She still could not believe her ill luck. That's why, when everything in the still forest was quiet, save for the kits meowing, she offed them just like she had done their father.

One little kit though -Never, that is- had it in him to survive. How, he was not really sure himself. He kept hearing things his mother said.
"Why, I never."
"I never want to see you again!"
"Don't look for me. You won't find me. Never."
She left him there, a small, meowing, tabby and white tomkit. Just left him there in the undergrowth, and stole off into the night, Never would not see his mother again.

But that's how he came about his most peculiar name. Never, never- the word stuck.

[. creekstar *]

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